Summary: A Samcedes one-shot explaining just how Sam's sweatshirt worn in "Heart" was seen on Mercedes during "Funeral"

My take on what must have happened.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Red Hooded Sweatshirt

Walking down the hallway with Sam so close to me feels surreal.

It's been only two days since we confessed our feelings to each other and decided to just keep things friendly until the summer, but the wait was close to unbearable.

It's hard to believe that this is actually happening, to me.

I've spent the last two years watching everyone else get their flowers and their boyfriends and their solos.

It's finally my time to get what I want.

But with Nationals so close it's imperative that I keep my thoughts on us winning, and not on Sam.

"We probably shouldn't be walking together in the hallway all of the time," I decide, turning my head up towards Sam as confusion spreads across his face. "People might start to talk."

"Mercedes, we're in glee club. I'm pretty sure everyone already thinks we have orgies at the end of every meeting. I don't think they're gonna think anything of us walking together."

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard you say," I say, even though I know that it's far from the truth. You would be surprised the kinds of things that comes out of his mouth, lurking behind his boyish southern charm.

"I'm just saying, nobody in this school even looks at us. We literally break out into song in the middle of the school and nobody even turns to look. We're fine," Sam finishes, as his blond hair falls in front of his eyes. I still can't figure out how he can see anything with his hair like that.

"You need a haircut bad," I tell him while I reach up and brush his hair out of his eyes.

"Now that people might notice," Sam warns, pointing to my hand.

"Sorry," I mumble sheepishly as we stop at Sam's locker.

"So a haircut, huh?" He questions, placing his books in his locker. "Not a fan of the flowing golden locks?"

"Oh my God you love it. Sam, no. As soon as we come back from New York the hair goes."

"I don't love it, but it's definitely grown on me."

"Grown on you? You think you're really funny don't you?" I ask and Sam responds by placing one hand on my shoulder and leaning in impossibly close to my face.

"I know you think I'm funny, Mercedes. It's okay, you can admit it."

I've stopped breathing and I try my best to come up with some witty remark but all I can think about is how wonderful it would feel if he kissed me. The very thought of it makes me shudder with the overwhelming realization that it is eventually going to happen.

"Don't flatter yourself, Evans. But you are cute, I'll give you that." I manage to get out nervously. Sam gives me an odd look and I pray he doesn't ask what I was just thinking about.

"Are you cold?"

"What?" Did he just change the subject? Or…what?

"You shivered, are you cold? I have an extra sweatshirt if you want to borrow it."

What am I supposed to say? 'No, I shivered because I was thinking of what it was like to kiss you.' God, at least say something.

"I'm freezing! They keep this school way too cold. I've been meaning to talk to Figgins about it, I just haven't had the chance. Tina, too. She has some weird power over him that I don't really understand. I was going to use that to my advantage." Oh my God stop talking!

Sam somehow believed my ridiculous temperature rant because before I know it he's pulled a red hooded sweatshirt from his locker and is holding it out for me. I tentatively reach out and take it from him and he takes my bag from me as I slip the sweatshirt on.

It smells like Sam and it takes all of my special skills not to make my sniffing obvious. I don't want to freak him out too much after my apparent protest against a cold school I'm initiating.

I hope I don't end up really having to do that.

"Thanks," I smile up at him as he hands me back my bag.

"No problem," Sam responds, holding my gaze for a few lasting seconds before pointing down the hall. "We should probably head to glee club now. I hear Jesse St. James is back for some show choir consulting."

"You've got to be kidding me. Hell no, I am not about to sit through two weeks of that obnoxious attitude and Rachel Berry hanging on to every damn word that comes out of that conceited mouth of his."

"Come on," Sam presses as he drapes his arm around my shoulder and nearly drags me down the hallway. "At least it will be entertaining."

He lets his arm drop as soon as we get ten feet from the choir room.

We make sure to sit at least one seat away from each other, to not seem too obvious.

"New Directions," starts Mr. Schue, bouncing on his heels in excitement. "I would like to introduce you to our new show choir consultant, Jesse St. James!"

Rachel's fangirl clapping nearly sets me off until I look just past her at Sam, smirking at me with humor in his eyes. I just know I'm going to get reenactments of Rachel's reaction later tonight.

I guess this will be entertaining.

And I'll at least be warm. Or overheated.

Whichever, it doesn't matter.

There is no way I'm taking this sweatshirt off.